


Immortals

by Serendivinity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Sam and Dean - Freeform, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Reader Insert, Sexual Situations, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5680114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serendivinity/pseuds/Serendivinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hidden in the shadows of your brother's endless mistakes you wanted to finally feel something. An old enemy confides in you after various mishaps and you realise you have more in common than you thought. </p><p>Reader x Crowley</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Incomplete

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks! Since I finally caught up with Supernatural I decided I would write a fanfic, finally.  
> Haven't written in a while I feel rusty. Hopefully I can update this often.  
> This will take place through seasons 10 to 11 with the occasional diversion.

Pain radiated through your entire being, everything ached. It felt as though your whole body had been set on fire, but amongst the searing, burning, agonising rush thrumming through your veins with each and every heartbeat, you felt alive. Like a tsunami of ecstasy with a literal after burn washing over you.

If this was their idea of torture they clearly didn’t know you very well… It started with a simple mission, hunting a Werewolf on the run, that was mercilessly slaughtering innocent civilians on its rampage through towns. Despite your best efforts to follow the beast somehow you had been captured by five wonderfully polite demons that tied you up, gagged you and then strapped you down to what can only be described as a torture bed…

You would have guessed your location if they hadn’t escorted you roughly with a burlap sack over your head, ushering crazy notions about how Crowley would be pleased when they’d finished your ‘transformation’, but you were trapped down in an old abandoned insane asylum, your wrists were aching in protest again your strains and your body writhed but to no avail.

“Shut up!” one of them hollered cutting through the darkness as it slowly started to dissipate into reality. “She’s starting to come to… Give her another dose, shut this bitch up!” He finished, barking orders at the lesser demons, his voice rich and smooth, had he not been so rude you would have been inclined to punch him instead of gank him with a demon blade.

Right on cue, the needle pierced your skin. Roaring flames burst through your veins once more, a fresh batch of pain thrown your way. What were they injecting you with?

“You bastards!” You spat. “Why are you doing this to me?!” You thrashed around as the dosage spread, but it wasn’t like the last time; your emotions switched from scared and confused to angry. You threw up an arm and the whole bed rocked, the leather straps seeming more and more futile at holding back your rage. There was a feeling of being trapped inside your own mind, like watching your surroundings through the insides of car and you had no control over the steering wheel.

“One more dose and we’ll set you free.” The female spoke as she stroked your face; her voice was sultry and seductive, hair a colour of deep burgundy. “And then we get our reward…” Her expression turned upwards into a twisted grin. The world fell apart once more into a pitch black hollow, you passed out once again.

Screams filled the air, but it didn’t sound like you this time. That silky voice that rang through your ears as you passed out, it belonged to the demon woman who was now piercing the room with her high pitched cries before the room fell silent.

“Y/N!”  You heard your name through the chaos. You could have recognised it anywhere, the gruff and deep voice of your eldest brother.

“Dean…” You let out a rough groan, your throat feeling dry and coarse from the screaming.

“C'mon let’s get you out of here. Sammy!” He called to the middle sibling. Sam wrestled with a demon before his large frame overpowered the meat suit it had adopted, a scrawny piss poor choice of a possession in your opinion.

Dean picked you up in his arms, carrying you through the asylum and out into daylight. Your eyes felt heavy and sunken, as your brother cradled you and practically threw you into the back of the Impala you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the window and you wanted to throw up.

Your skin was white as a lamb taken to slaughter, your body covered in cuts and bruises that were intensified by the sheer glow of your pale flesh. Your E/C eyes were sunken in under red and black gatherings around your eyes. The epitome of a drug overdosed junkie.

As Sam and Dean hurried themselves into the car the Impala’s suspension took a noticeable dip from their weight, you laughed to yourself as Dean switched on the engine, she roared to life sped off, leaving the asylum in the fading horizon. You pretended to sleep as ‘baby’ purred across the country roads.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” Dean barked, slamming his fist on the wheel.

“Dean, calm down, Y/N is resting. He’s the one who told us where she was remember? If he wanted to harm her he wouldn’t have told us anything.” Sam piped up, the voice of reason.

“Yeah you think? Then why didn’t he go in and save her?” You could imagine Dean’s face, his jaw line tightening as he looked angrily into the distance.

“Dean, think about it, I’m not defending Crowley but I don’t think he would go in and gank his own demons over a Winchester, that will definitely turn the tides against him after he just established his control again.” The name weighed heavily on your chest, was he really the reason you were tied up and injected over and over again with demonic blood? The plentiful times that the demons had mentioned his name whilst shooting you up… About how he would be pleased with you, pleased with them for their efforts, their valiant reward. Your head started to spin.

“Yeah well he certainly left us to pick up the pieces of his dirty work. I don’t trust that he had nothing to do with this, why would they have tried to hijack her and turn her into a fucking demon? I was a failed project, right? She’s the only one of us left who hasn’t taken the express highway to hell!”

“I’m still here guys,” you interjected. “I don’t care who was responsible for this, just take me home…” You watched as your brothers exchanged concerned looks, Dean turned his attention to the road, catching glances of you through the rear view mirror. Sam took off his jacket, struggling awkwardly in the passenger seat and leaned into the back to drape it over you.

“We’ll be there in a few hours, get some rest,” he soothed. You offered him a weak smile.

An hour into the drive you felt your skin itching, but no matter how much you scratched it wouldn’t go away, your arms became red and inflamed as you clawed at yourself.

“Y/N!” Dean’s tone was harsh. Your head snapped up from violently itching your arm to look at his face in the rear view. “I’ve been shouting you for two damn minutes, are you okay? Need me to pull over?”

“Dean just get her to the bunker,” Sam spoke on your behalf, he had stirred from his sleep to see you sweating violently and trying to rip your skin apart.

Your breathing got heavier, the pain was back. You were due your final dose, your pupils were dilating violently. A soft whimper escaped your lips and a scream emerged as the searing sensation was back, violent and intense urges to hurt, to maim. Oh the sweet rage wanted out of your flesh infested prison…


	2. Lock Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter down! Comments and Kudos is greatly appreciated!  
> I promise there will be more Crowley in later chapters... A whole lot more. ;)

Sam and Dean had taken every precaution to keep you safe, they had even taken the liberty of putting you in the dungeon which was plastered with demon traps and sigils and to top it all off the very collar the King of Hell had worn so graciously during his days spent trapped there, they didn’t know how strong of a hold the demonic blood had over you. Their best guess was it was becoming increasingly more erratic with each passing moment.

“You assholes, let me out!” You spat, feeling more irritated than ever. “I’m not a fucking de-” your sentence was cut short, you were paralysed. Your silence obviously stirred some worry, your brothers burst into the room, calling your name over and over again but try as you might you couldn’t respond to their anguished calls.

“Dean, get the holy water…”

A moment later you were splashed with cold liquid, you felt a tingle on your skin. It didn’t exactly burn but there was a harsh and warming sensation, like taking a hot shower the water trickled over your skin. “Crap,” you muttered inwardly to yourself, “This shouldn’t happen…” You couldn’t project your voice, so you simply sat staring blankly into the world around you, your brothers looming over you.

“Nothing…” Dean breathed.

“Are you sure?” Sam inspected closely, you could feel his breath on your arm. “I can smell burning…”

“Fuck!” Dean shouted. “I’ll be right back…” Dean’s voice sounded low and dangerous.

Being stuck in your own mind was torture in itself. You’d rather feel something than feel absolutely nothing. For what seemed like an eternity finally you heard voices. Sam and Dean had returned with a guest, his English accent smooth with a rough edge of annoyance.

“And I’m telling you two idiots, I had nothing to do with this.” Crowley… His voice cut through the blackness, he sounded angrier than usual. “Do you even realise how much chaos this has caused me? The only tip off you puppets would have had could only have come from me, and now I’ve all sorts of uproar down there that I protected a Winchester, let alone her!” Crowley had no idea how much his words cut you when he spoke.

“I don’t give a crap about what you have to deal with in Hell, that’s your business, you’re their King. Just fix it or so help me!” Dean snapped.

“Just shoot some human blood into her veins that usually flushes the demon out… I really don’t see why you felt the urge to call me here.” If you could stand up you would have punched him for that comment, but you heard the exhaustion in his voice.

“Because right now that could kill her…” An even deeper baritone voice cut through the darkness. Castiel. The band was back together! And you were stuck in a hell of your own, unable to witness such a rare gathering of mystically infuriating creatures.

“Problem solved.” Crowley muttered sarcastically.

“I don’t understand, if you wanted her dead why would you go to her brother’s for help?” Castiel asked monotone as ever.

There was a slight pause. “Because if she were a demon then she’d be a bigger thorn in my side,” the demon King replied.

“If anything happens to her, believe me, it will be more than a thorn in your side Crowley,” Sam threatened. You wished you could bash all their heads together.

“Is that so, Moose?” You didn’t need to see them to know they were sizing one another up in a metaphorical sense; Sam definitely had him beaten on height…

“Can we focus on the task at hand here?” Castiel cut the atmosphere like a knife through butter, and suddenly you could sense they were dumbfounded again.

“Are you lot missing the obvious here?” Crowley spoke. “How else do you get rid of bad blood?”

“Are we talking literally or in the building bridges sense?” Dean offered up an answer, his anxious anger laced with sarcasm.

“No you oversized imbecile, you drain it.” It really was fun imagining their interactions in your mind, that instance you pictured Crowley pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut. “Are you with me?” He fired up again once he received no reply.

“Yeah, but we’re not just draining our sister’s blood supply…” Another strained pause came from Sam. “Unless we can substitute it with clean blood!”

“Moose and Squirrel save the day once again… You three really are insufferable. I don’t know how Y/N puts up with it.”

“Because we give a damn about each other, you wouldn’t understand that you put her in harm’s way!” Dean argued.

“Not intentionally! Yet here I am trying to help you, putting my neck on the line for the bloody Winchester’s yet again!” Dean had definitely touched a nerve, Crowley’s voice was booming off the dungeon walls now. “All because Abaddon’s minion’s knew how much-” he cut himself off. You so desperately wanted to hear the rest of that sentence.

“How much what, Crowley?” Dean’s voice grew low again, dangerous and predatory.

“Nothing.” The demon King backed down.

“Yeah, damn right it’s nothing.” Your elder brother spat back.

Shortly after their disagreement you felt something slice your wrist, moments later another stab in your left arm and a needle being spliced in. You must have looked a complete picture, a poster figure for failed suicide, one wrist slashed and an IV drip inserted in the other, hollow cheekbones and sunken eyes. You didn’t want to wake up and look in a mirror any time soon…

~*~*~

Slowly but surely that black hue lifted from your vision, nerve endings finding impulse again, followed by movement. Castiel healed your wrist and Dean removed the drip.

“Hey,” you expressed softly as Dean and Cas removed the shackles and helped you up. Dean pulled you into a soft hug, wary of your frail body.

“Hey yourself, we thought we lost you to the dark side!” He held you out at arm’s length to inspect the damage. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks bro,” you laughed. “Know I can count on someone to tell the truth around here.” You looked over at Sam who peeled you away from Dean and hugged you, a little more forcefully than your elder brother.

“He’s lying you look fine, you could do with some food and a shower though…” Sam ruffled your hair affectionately.

Cas went to shake your hand but you pulled him in for a hug, after a few seconds he returned the favour. He smelled of pine needles and a hint of lavender it was oddly soothing. “Thank you,” you muttered into his chest. The Angel moved backwards and his puppy dog eyes told you it was no bother at all.

“Anything for family,” he nodded.

You were surprised to see a dark figure in the corner; you cast a glance in Crowley’s direction. His eyes fixated on you, watching you intently. You wanted to thank him for his good deed, if it wasn’t for him your brothers wouldn’t have found you in time, maybe not even at all… Heck you wanted to hug him! Before you resigned yourself to the scrutiny of your brother’s watchful eye you plucked up the courage to walk over to him.

“I guess I owe you my gratitude…” you expressed quietly, the demon in front of you offered a weak smile.

“Don’t mention it,” his line of sight flicking between you and your brothers. “One less demonic Winchester means I can breathe a sigh of relief, for now.” You exchanged a small smile with him. You noticed it then, the blood red rose nestled in the pocket of his well tailored suit, questions swirled through your mind but you thought better and decided to drop the topic for another time, Crowley noticed where you were staring and he shifted back slightly. “Well, if you’ll excuse me…” and with a click of his fingers he disappeared.

That night you rested in a cold sweat, nightmares plaguing the forefront of your mind. Dreams about killing your brothers, dreams that you had that cursed mark Dean wore instead of him. Every time you woke your skin still felt someone had poured lava over your body. After hours of tossing and turning you practically threw your body out of bed and into the shower to cool down, setting the temperature to a medium to low heat. The itching hadn’t subsided even after your skin was clean of sweat.

You rolled downstairs into the main hall of the bunker, the lights were dimmed and Sam sat with his head buried in a book, his expression full of woe.

“Sammy?” You called in a soft voice. He didn’t move or acknowledge your voice, you called again. “Sammy is everything okay?” Still nothing. Motioning closer to him you could hear him muttering to himself, until his phone buzzed on the counter top which jerked him to life.

“Cas?” Sam sounded full of panic. “What’s going on?” Your feet developed a mind of their own and you darted for cover. Something was a foul; you could sense it in the air, like electricity. “Hold on, I thought we agreed on this? You said you’d do whatever it takes…” He looked around hastily and lowered his voice, you could only just hear him a few feet away. “Fine. Just keep looking.” Sam snapped quietly at the Angel. You heard him place the phone on the table and shuffle uncomfortable in the small chair beneath him.

Deciding that he was void of his sanity right now you retreated back upstairs until you knocked over a vase on the landing, a mighty crash echoed off the walls, your foot stung like hell as you muttered profanities under your breath.

“Who’s there?” Sam bellowed.

“Shit!” You hobbled about on one foot, right where the porcelain landed it left a nasty little cut on your ankle and toe.

“Y/N?” Your brother’s voice sounded full of panic. He rushed up the stairs to where you were dancing around. “How long were you there?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I got a little dizzy and crashed into the vase, so about three seconds, why?” You lied convincingly, if there was anything you learned having two older and overprotective brothers, it was how to tell an expert lie.

“No reason, I’m just worried about you,” Sam on the other hand was the world’s worst liar, his eyes darted from left to right, his fingers would clasp shut into a fist and his jaw would become more prominent like he was speaking through gritted teeth, his motions would become jumpy and he would then move to another subject or divert attention into an action. “Let me take a look at your foot…” He removed his jacket and placed it lightly to your ankle applying pressure to stop it from bleeding any more.

“Sam… You and Dean have been awfully jumpy lately, I know he’s getting worse but… Promise me you’ll accept what Dean asks you to do and stop keeping secrets from me, from both of us…”

Your lanky, shaggy haired brother looked up at you. His jaw clenched and he looked back to your wound.

“I promise.”

Anger boiled in the pit of your stomach. “Sammy you’re a shit liar.” You kicked your foot out and pulled it away from his light grasp.

“Y/N, hold on!”

“No, I’ve had enough of the deceit; you and Dean do nothing but lie to me. Dean says he’s fine, but he’s falling apart, you’re protecting your phone, you’re jumpy and skittish, you’re keeping something from us!” You stomped your foot objectively on the floor before walking away to get some shoes and a band aid.


	3. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated after a bar fight. Rowena pays a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably update this once a week since I work away a lot. This chapter has more Crowley, yay!

Fuming with outrage you sped down the highway in your customised 1969 Ford Mustang, if there was one thing you and Dean shared it was a love of classic cars, and she was a beast of a car. Darla was the name you had given her when your Dad purchased her for you after your first solo hunt, you killed a Vampire named Darla, you christened the Mustang after her as a trophy, back then it seemed like a cool thing to do… Too involved in your own little world you failed to see the figure in the middle of the roadway, adorned in a long black cloak carrying a Wicca basket.

“Fuck!” You noticed her at the last second and slammed on your breaks. Darla’s wheels protested but came to an abrupt halt right before the stranger. Her hair was auburn, as bright and as deep as autumn orange, and she had a slim figure you’d kill for, hunting gave you a certain muscular physique, much like your brothers that meant you could take on monsters up close.

You wound the window down and yelled rudely. “Lady get out of the fucking road, are you crazy? Woah get your hands off my car!” You watched in horror as she placed both hands on the bonnet of your jet black motor, leaving dirty hand prints.

“Now that’s just plain rude!” The woman drawled in a thick Scottish accent. “You almost ran poor little me over and now you have the indecency to shout at me… And all I wanted to do was talk, F/N Winchester.” You were stunned to silence. Taking in her demeanour you knew exactly who she was; your brother’s had mentioned various encounters with the witch Rowena, but you had yet to encounter her…  But what on earth she was doing in the middle of the road waiting for you at that precise moment perplexed you, she was obviously seeking you but to know where you would be at that precise moment was almost intimidating… Then again you’d come across stranger things. You shrugged off your thoughts and before you could say anything she had let herself in the passenger side of your car.

“What the- Where were you when they handed out manners?” You jested indignantly.

“I could ask you the same thing, dearie…” She gave you a smug grin and pressed on. “Now it’s come to my attention that you and your brothers have become a problem in my Son’s court.” She gave you a once over and her features twisted into a condescending frown. “You in particular.” She finished.

“Well you don’t beat around the bush do you; I thought we might get a coffee and chat?” You rolled your eyes sarcastically, starting your engine to pull into the side of the road before a truck ploughed into the back of Darla. You processed over the witch’s words carefully. “What do you mean by your son’s court anyway? We’re a problem in everyone’s court unless you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh I know that,” her voice lowered a tone. “But I couldn’t care less about who else you pose a problem for; you’re not distracting their King… Well you might be, in the case it would be easier for you to break to son’s heart. If he had one!” She was almost muttering to herself and cackled.

“Back up… I have no idea what you’re talking about, I don’t know who your son-” The penny finally dropped. Taking in her accent into consideration, her demeanour, the fact that you only knew one King at that moment.

“Ahh, I see those cogs in your head have finally clicked lass.”

“You’re Crowley’s mother?”

“You Winchester’s aren’t very smart.” She laid the insults on thick.

“Well I was about to say it explains a lot.” You cast her a cold glance, one which she practically beamed at.

“I can see why he’s so fond of you, you’re a fighter!”

“And you talk too much. You haven’t told me why exactly you’re here, to warn me off your son? Well I don’t think a human girl and the King of Hell can be besties now, do you?”

“Perhaps not, but a demon Winchester… What a shame that was, you had so much potential lass, and you threw it away no thanks to your brothers, meddling in affairs, yet again!” She expressed her anger through her hands, she was an intriguing woman to watch in any other circumstance, but she was practically confessing that she had involvement in the fate that almost became of you.

“You’re the reason I was abducted by the demon circus!” Rage consumed your voice and it became a primitive snarl.

“And the I would say you’re welcome, but well you know… They managed to make a pig’s ear of it. Bloody demons. Can you blame me? I’m only trying to make my son happy, he’s such a misery guts.” She feigned a pout and beamed again at you, patting her hand on your knee. “Now, I hope you don’t hold any grudges, but I must be going. Take this visit as a… Friendly warning.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think you’re in any position to be threatening me… I’ sure you’re familiar with my family too and what they will do to you. Now kindly get the hell out of my car.” Your tone was laced in venom, low and threatening.

“With pleasure.” She beamed once more, popping open the passenger door and exiting the car, as she closed the door you sped off down the highway once more, one stop in mind.

~*~*~*~*

Business was not so booming in these parts anymore. You parked up and made a quick dash for the local bar. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes wafted through the air. You could sense everyone’s eyes on you, watching your demeanour, the way you moved confidently up to the bar.

“Whiskey, neat… Make it a double.” You ordered the barkeep. He proceeded to pour your drink.

“Rough day?” He asked. You nodded, and tossed the money on the counter.

It didn’t take long until a token group of bikers came into the bar, at first they were quiet but after a few rounds they became a loud and obnoxious, each taking their turn to offer you a drink or make some repulsive comment in attempt to flatter you. One by one you sent them away. That was until one of them laid a hand on your thigh. Your blood boiled, anger took over into a blind rage and you sent the heavy set man tumbling, snapping a pool cue over your leg and offering him outside. He mopped up the blood from his cut lip with the back of his hand and shouted derogatory comments your way before scurrying off to his friends.

“You know, I find that such an attractive quality in a woman…” That English accent cut through your burning rage, your shoulders relaxed and you turned to face the new intruder on your privacy.

“Crowley…” You breathed a sigh of relief. It was only the King of Hell… What possible harm could come to you in his company?

“Drink?” He offered and you nodded. Of all the men that had offered you a drink that evening, Crowley was the only offer you had accepted, you somehow felt safe in his company. It was almost laughable at how contradictory that truly was, but there was a mutual understanding between your family and the King of Hell. Crowley always seemed to come down on the Winchester’s side, intentional or not; he knew where he could place his bets.

He subsequently ordered himself a scotch on the rocks and a neat double whiskey for you. You were surprised he knew exactly what you were drinking, you wondered if he had been watching you for some time, or just eyed you as the type.

“How long have you been here?” You quizzed.

“Long enough to watch you handle yourself against those poor sods.” He took at seat at the bar and you propped yourself onto a bar stool next to him.

“Your mother paid me a visit by the way…” You sipped nonchalantly on your beverage, watching his eyebrow twitch out of the corner of your eye. “She’s almost as charming as you,” you joked. You could see no hint of that humour transfer to Crowley.

“And what did she say?” He asked cautiously.

“What didn’t she? That woman talks a lot.” That did earn you a smile. “She uh… Just warned me that my brothers and I are distracting you from doing your job, and she also mentioned the whole trying to turn me into a Demon… I’m not pointing fingers but she pretty much admitted she was responsible for planting that notion into your little friends’ heads.” You had no intention of telling him what she had mentioned about you being the biggest distraction, you didn’t believe that part was true, you knew deep down Crowley was wary of your brothers and you more than anything.

“That bloody witch!” He cursed, balling his hands into a tightly clenched fist. “I had a feeling she was something to do with it.”

“She left a hex bag in my car too…” You laughed and threw the thing in your pocket onto the counter. Crowley picked it up and inspected it closely. “I don’t think your mom approves of me.”

“Funny, because she’s going through a lot of damn trouble to inconvenience you, usually she’d just kill you or curse you.” He cast you a quick glance and returned his attention to the hex bag before putting it in his suit pocket. “I think she likes you.” You cocked an eyebrow at him and let out a heavy laugh.

“She has a funny way of showing it!” Your eyebrows knitted together in a frown, much to your annoyance you knew it wouldn’t be wise to get on her bad side.

“That’s what I tell myself every day.” Raising the glass of scotch to his lips you watched him out of the corner of your eye. You hated to admit it to yourself but whenever Crowley appeared in the midst of something, you always stole a quick glance at him, his well tailored suits and his presence. A man of confidence and power; it went against every fibre of your being, every ounce of hunter blood coursing through your veins screamed at you, told you he was a demon, that it was forbidden to feel anything but hatred. But time after time Crowley helped you, helped your brothers, he always broke the rules when it came to demonic relationships with humans. Your head began to swim, perhaps from the alcohol or the company but you shrugged it off, deciding to enjoy both while it lasted.

The both of you drank for a while longer, Crowley ordered in the rounds, eventually the bar was almost empty of souls and the sun had long set. The barkeep cast you both the occasional glance, smiling to himself as he continued to clean glasses and make the bar look tidy in case a band of merry men strode through the door looking to drink themselves into oblivion. The conversation flowed so well, you and Crowley always shared a twisted sense of humour, you both shared so much in common.

“So let me get this straight… Moose is your twin brother? You look nothing alike!” Crowley looked genuinely shocked that he had never found this information out sooner.

“Yep! I was born 15 minutes after, that makes him my older brother, yet we look totally different! Thank god!” You could finally feel the effects of the alcoholic spirits wearing down on you but you still had your senses.

“It’s just as well you don’t, I don’t think I’d enjoy our company as much…” He gave you a wicked grin, which you returned, pink staining your cheeks slightly. In a sober circumstance you probably would have deemed yourself delusional but you had a thing for throwing caution to the wind, yet another wonderful family trait.

“Is the King of Hell trying to flirt with me?” You cocked your head to the side a little trying to look naive.

“That depends, is it working?” His accent made him seem so nonchalant about it.

“Well, buy me another drink and we’ll find out.” Your grin turned into a dark smirk.

“Hell woman, you’ll drink the place dry.” His wry humour made him so much more attractive.

“Crowley?” You asked after a moment of silence. Your tone switched from lighthearted and flirty to serious in a click.

“Yes, love?” His expression changed with your tone.

“What does it feel like… to be a demon? All that blood in my veins… I felt, so angry, but so empty… Would you have been happy if they succeeded? I know Dean was a handful but maybe things could have been different with me…” You started to waffle on, but the demon before you put his hand up to interject.

“I was so angry when I found out what they had done, I went straight to your brothers for help. I don’t want you to become like me, I have no virtue, I feel empty and cold inside. If you lose that then you wouldn’t be you… You wouldn’t be the woman I’ve grown so fon-”

Suddenly the door burst open, the offending bikers from earlier staggered back in, even more intoxicated than when they left. The large hairier one pointed to you. “That’s the bitch!” He bellowed. He made his way over to where you sere sat, slowly like a predator. You rolled your eyes, but inside you knew you were no match for several drunken men.

“Back for round two? Running off crying to your pals once not good enough? What’s the matter did they say you had no dick so you’re trying to overcompensate”? You tried to stall for time while you thought of an exit strategy.

“You have a big mouth girl!” His fist came flying towards you, you threw your hands to block but before he had landed a hit, a hand had wrapped around the biker’s wrist to stop him dead in his tracks.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to hit a woman?” Crowley remained dangerously calm, but you knew the anger boiling up inside, you’d seen that dead stare so many times. “Tell your goons to back off or you’ll all regret it in the morning.” You knew just as well that he meant it.

“Who the fuck are you?” The heavily set man snarled.

“The King of Hell.” Crowley replied, the man burst out laughing hysterically. Snap. His arm was twisted in several places and almost severed clean off. Screams filled the air and the man clutched his flaccid arm in agony, the demon next to you took it a step further and thrust his heel into the back of the man’s leg as he fell to the floor, breaking his leg to match his arm.

You hoped the others in his gang would get the sense to back down, but they all charged in, you dodged and ducked, throwing punches. One landed a fist to your forehead, you fell backwards into the pool table, snatching another cue off the blue cloth you wrapped it around a scrawny gang member’s head. It was like you were possessed, you couldn’t see straight, red filled your vision and before you knew it you had snapped out the knife from your pocket, lunging it into the shoulder of another attacker. You raised it a second time, ready to bury it in the guy’s chest. A firm grip wrapped around your dainty wrist, in an anger fuelled burst you swung around only to find a familiar demon keeping you from killing the man on the ground. His face was so close to your own, you could smell the whiskey on his breath, your vision darted from between his eyes to his lips as you took heavy breaths to calm down. Your senses slowly returning you dropped the knife, bodies moving closer, faces edging towards each other.

You closed your eyes and leaned in as he closed the gap, Crowley’s lips ghosting over yours, testing the waters before everything you felt surfaced. The kiss deepened into a passionate and angry battle, Crowley clicked his fingers and the stirring gang members and the bar keep crashed to the floor, as if time had stopped.

Your hands roamed his body and his hands gripped at yours, trying to bring you even closer. He pushed you against the pool table firmly. Just as he clutched your shirt, ready to roll it up when you heard Crowley’s ring tone.

“Bollocks.” He muttered, breaking away from you. “If it’s important they’ll ring back…” He ignored it the first time, bringing his attention back to you, you hopped up onto the table, wrapping your legs around his waist as he laced kisses down your neck, tantalisingly slow and teasing, earning desperate whimpers as you edged him closer with your thighs.

The phone buzzed again. Crowley didn’t seem too happy as he backed away from you, answering the call with an angry snap of “What the bloody hell do you want, This better be damned important I’m in the middle of something…” You giggled at his mannerisms.

His face changed from anger to a cool and calm exterior as he muttered acknowledgements over the phone. That dangerous edge to him returning.  

“I’ll be there in a minute.” He put the phone down and shoved it unhappily in his pocket.

“Arseholes. Only ever need my help at the most inconvenient time” He fussed. You watched him closely now, not sure how to assess the situation after you just had your thighs wrapped around the King of Hell, ready to do oh so much more…

“I have to go love, Hell calls.” He actually looked apologetic. You nodded.

“Rain check…” You laughed nervously. He glanced you up and down, smirking.

“Definitely.” He clicked his fingers and disappeared. The bar remained quiet, you tiptoed over the battered and bruised biker gang out the bar and over to Darla.

You propped open the door and sat down, opening the glove box to find a spare knife to strap to your belt since you left your other one abandoned on the floor of the bar with the now stirring men. You were surprised to see an elegant red rose carefully placed in there, its thorns tucked under an envelope, which was probably a speeding ticket.

You picked it up and fastened it into the top pocket of your jacket, absent of mind and smiling like a wicked cat. Putting the keys into the ignition she purred to life, you set your satellite navigation back to the bunker, not that you needed it but you enjoyed knowing your way back home after you had ingested too much alcohol and probably shouldn’t be driving right this second but you had always managed to get home safe and sound and never wrapped Darla around a tree, you had been in far worse states than the one you were in now, besides you had already had some sobering shocks back to your senses…

Your mind began flashing back to everything that happened in the bar, your heart skipped a beat when you remembered the feel of Crowley’s lips on yours, the press of his body against your own, fitting perfectly together. With all highs, there come considerable lows as anxiety flashed in the back of your mind growing with each passing second to the forefront of your cognitive activity; the thought of your brothers finding out what had transpired… It would most certainly kill them, Dean would hunt Crowley to the ends of the earth and to the depths of hell for revenge. You took deep and calming breaths, your brothers didn’t have to know. After all, they kept secrets from you, far worse ones at that. With a long sigh you took your foot off the clutch and began the process of driving home slowly.


	4. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations on all sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the chapters are sporadic. I work away a lot, so I try and write when I find time.  
> I enjoy writing this story though, all the characters are so different to write so it's interesting.  
> Please comment or Kudos!  
> Your input is greatly appreciated. Thank you so much! <3

**Crowley’s POV**

Clenching his fists tightly around his phone, grinding his teeth in distaste at the demon before him Crowley was overcome with anger, more so than usual. His speech was slowly delivered to emphasise his burning rage, looking for a way to satisfy his annoyance, oh how he wished he could blow up every demon in this damn room right now after they pulled him away from the one person who gave him any distraction, any salvation in this blasted cruel world of divine intervention, demonic attacks on his throne and any other bother he seemed to end up involved with, his mother being another one of those thorns in an endless stem of nonsense.

“You mean to tell me, that you, of all my most loyal subjects managed to let my mother poke around in places I specifically told you not to let her into so she could collect ingredients for hex bags and who knows what else? And you call me here and say it’s an emergency because you can’t do your fucking job?” With a snap of his fingers the demon in front of him dissipated into a cloud of black dust, his meat suit exploding with his blackened soul. “You!” Crowley pointed a finger at the closest demon he could find, in this case a gangly looking man with hollow cheeks. “How would you like his job? Just make sure you actually do it. One screw up and he’ll be cleaning you up…” He nodded his head at yet another demon who averted the King’s gaze entirely, his weight shifting from one foot to another.

The King of hell pulled his suit at the bottom to straighten it out and proceeded to dust off his jacket, the lesser demon’s remains dusting the surrounding area.

“Mother,” he bellowed. Rowena pushed open the double doors leaning into the throne room with her usual sass and dramatic flair, her hips bouncing as she walked, her trademark smirk plastered to her slim face.

“Fergus.” She greeted, her Scottish accent drawling out from her ruby red lips slowly in the way that annoyed him so much he wanted to set her on fire. “And what can I do for you my son?” If Crowley didn’t know any better he could have sworn she was being endearing.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been meddling in my affairs.” He stroked his beard and raised his eyebrows in notion for her to explain herself.

“What, me? I’d never! Fergus I don’t know how you can insinuate that your mother has any influence in your court, after all my boy, you’re the King.” She addressed him so formally, bowing to him with a mock act of disbelief and devilishly winked at him.

“Yes, yes, get up.” He fussed, embarrassed by his mother’s tendency for over dramatic scenes in his courtroom.  “Don’t play coy, I know you’ve been making trouble for the Winchesters.” Her face dropped quicker than Crowley could disappear.

“Those Winchesters are bad news my boy. You’d do good to listen to me and stay away from them before they become your downfall.” Her voice lowered considerably when she was angry, a far cry from her usual chirpy tone. “Especially the girl,” she added lowly.

“Is that why you tried to turn Y/N into a demon? Tell me mother, what purpose would that have served? Another demonic Winchester is not what this kingdom needs!” His anger had begun to seep through betraying his false sense of composure. “It’s definitely not what I want!” He sank back into his throne, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers to ease the tension of the headache slowly forming no thanks to Rowena.

“You’re infatuated with the girl.” The redheaded witch stated flatly. “I’m your mother, I can tell. You look at her like you used to look at food as a wee boy,” She snickered under her breath. Her comment clicked instantly in Crowley’s mind, his attention snapped back to her.

“And how exactly do you know how I look at her? Last I checked the three of us haven’t ever been in the same room. Care to enlighten me on your little slip up?” His eyes narrowed at her, she visibly gulped at the information she had accidentally let slip through her boasting.

“A teency weency location spell. What? I was worried about you, you’d wondered off for hours without telling anyone where you were going…” She mocked a cooing voice.

“I’m a grown demon. I can take care of myself. Just how much did you see?” Crowley knew she saw more than she needed to, there’s no way she wouldn’t have been keeping close tabs on their conversation, he remembered how much she loved to gossip.

“Oh, enough.” Rowena practically yawned. “Now, what else am I on trial for?” She clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a child being offered candy, this only infuriated her son even more. 

“You’re pushing your luck, I’ve not long let you out your cell and already you’re roaming my halls, poking your nose into my business and trying to run my kingdom from under me.” His mother rolled her eyes.

“Is that all? Oh, boy, stop concerning yourself with such trivial matters, I’m just having some fun, what’s a witch to do in such a dull environment?!” Rowena thought as always she could have the last word, but Crowley with his quickfire humour sent her a deadpan stare, his face propped into his hand.

“I don’t know, perhaps take up knitting?” His mother gave him an annoyed glance before retreating out of the room to go and wreak more havoc elsewhere.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**-Your POV-**

You returned to the bunker to see Sam asleep at the laptop, his body slumped over the desk in defeat and Dean was raiding the fridge intently. He slammed the door shut and turned around, a less than pleased grimace on his face which probably meant that he was without pie, his eyes landed on you, his frown intensified.

“We’re out of freakin’ beer already?” His jaw clenched into a tight line, he acknowledge your presence and nodded in your direction. “The hell did you go all day? It’s gone midnight, at least tell me or Sam where you’re going in future.” Your eldest brother always tried to look out for you, even more than your hopeless romantic of a twin who always believed that everything would be alright in the end… Dean also knew as well as anyone that sometimes you needed to run away for a little while to find space, he was also guilty of not phoning or even dropping a text when he wondered off into the sunset to find whiskey and company.

“Sorry Dad… I went to a bar a few towns over, I needed to get out.” You frowned in Sam’s general direction. “He’s driving me crazy Dean. I want you to be okay more than anyone, believe me, but this notion that it’s going to be okay this time… I can’t take much more of it.” Dean motioned over to you, he pulled you into a lose hug, his hand patting your back fondly.

“You’re not giving up hope too are you? If Sam’s all I got in the optimism bank then I’m screwed.” He let out a gruff laugh but you knew if was halfhearted to lighten the mood.

“You’re not screwed. I just think you have the strength to fight this.” You took a step back, looking into Dean’s eyes. So much pain and torment in those green orbs. If there was a distinguishing feature trait you all shared, it was the woeful and worn down expressions worn daily after decades of torment.

“Thanks Y/N, at least someone still believes in me.” He lightly punched your arm in a playful jest. It was nice that some of the old regular Dean shone through on occasion.

“You’re still an asshat though.” You lightly punched him back and head for the fridge to see what wondrous snacks you guys didn’t have.

“What’s that red thing sticking out of your pocket?” Absentmindedly you put your hands in your pockets, your fingers brushed across a velvety texture; it reminded you of a petal… You pulled it out without giving it much consideration.

“Late night landscaping?” Dean joked; your heart skipped a beat when you finally remembered where it came from, you were sure that your face had flashed into a betraying convergence of emotion for a brief second, but as quickly as it had descended you pushed your features back into a neutral expression.

“I plucked it out some old couple’s front garden, I’m sure they won’t miss one.” You lied, your face a deadpan stare as you twirled the stem between your fingers watching the petals dance in circles.

“Since when have you ever stopped to smell the roses? Or even had an interest in flowers for that matter?”

“I seem to recall that exact shade of red on a rose from somewhere…” His expression darkened, you had come to know this look over recent weeks. The mark of Cain was gripping at Dean and taking hold; everything about him shifted into a dark and intimidating aura. 

“Roses are all sorts of red Dean,” you worded cautiously, putting it back into your pocket and backing away to stumble backwards into the kitchen counter top as you walked backwards, Dean taking large and slow steps towards you.

“Not blood red with black tips…” His voice was even lower than usual, he stalked closer and closer until he was in front of you, he plucked the flower from your fingers and held it up to inspect it. “Did you make a deal with Crowley?” You let out a sigh, he assumed something entirely different was going on. Not that anything was, it was a moment of madness after drinking, fighting and almost… You remembered what you were going to do to that less than innocent biker, you had every intention of killing him until Crowley had gripped your wrist to stop you from making a mistake you couldn’t come back from. In a way, the King of Hell was your saviour, in any other circumstance you might have laughed at the irony.

“No Dean, we didn’t make a deal, he asked me for help and I refused. He told me to think about it and left me that. I didn’t want you to worry, you’ve got enough to deal with.” Sometimes your lies were so calm you even fooled yourself into thinking they were true.

He considered you closely for a moment and you could see him relax, he un-clenched his jaw and his eyes returned to being their usual characteristic of sad hidden in a world of confusion.

“Thank god,” he sighed. He gave you one last stare before he sauntered over to your twin brother, shaking him to rouse him from his slumber. “Sammy,” Sam grunted and sprung to life.

“What? What is it?!” His long shaggy hair bounced around his face as he looked left and right in a panic.

“Someone was having a nightmare… It’s bedtime buddy. Can’t leave you down here, you’ll wear the seat of the chair down with your gigantic ass.” Dean made a stab at normal banter between the two. Sam just smiled lightly and closed the laptop down, taking it under his arm as he resigned for the night.

As he passed you in the hallway he gave you an apologetic look. You held your hand up in protest before he spoke, cutting him off.

“Whatever you’re doing, I don’t care. I know you have our best interests at heart. Whatever you’re searching for, I don’t think you’re going to find it. Just don’t leave your siblings out of the loop, okay?” Sam looked down at you through his long lashes, his expression saddened.  

“I’m sorry. I’ll tell you in the morning, I promise.” You nodded, you knew it was the best you were going to get out of him.

“Okay bro.” You lightly punched him in the arm and walked with him in silence up the stairs to the bedrooms. You muttered a halfhearted ‘goodnight’ before walking into your own room, closing the door softly behind you and sliding down the heavy door frame onto the floor.

The events of the day rushed through your mind. Some of it made you smile, but most of it washed over you in a spell of grief. Sighing, you literally picked yourself up to begin your nightly ritual of preparing for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley had wanted this for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get as many chapters out as I can while I'm off work!  
> I wasn't so sure on this one, it's third person in Crowley's POV, but I wanted to shed some light on the back story.  
> Hope you enjoy! I will hopefully post these on tumblr eventually.  
> I appreciate your kudos'. Thank you readers!!! <3

**-Crowley’s POV-**

_**Flashback** _

Bound, chained, trapped. Like an animal in a cage, he felt feral and wild, hours ticked by, days even, slowly the king was giving up on his will to live.

“Moose,” the demon greeted as Sam bounded into the room, his body lank and clumsy looking. Crowley rolled his eyes as he saw the giant prepare the needle that would inject human blood, the ‘cure’ for Crowley’s demonic existence.

“Shut it,” was the hunter’s curt reply. “Y/N, could you come in here and give me a hand?” the light steps of bare feet on the stone cold floor filled Crowley’s ears, his low mood perking up slightly.

“Sure!” You came gracefully gliding in, the light from outside the dungeon bathing you in an angelic aura against the darkness of the dungeon. Half full of human blood Crowley felt something inside himself shift, for the first time in centuries, his chest gave a small flutter… You were the opposite of him entirely and yet there was that potential, that lethal edge about you that enticed him, he knew you could be dangerous and deadly just as much so as your brothers. Sure he had known you for a good length of time, since Moose and Squirrel came crashing into his life, along with you. He had always felt a pull towards you, but now with human blood running through him… he was a king brought to his knees.

“I need you to inject him, I’ve got something to do. Watch him for me until he passes out, okay?” Sam stared intently at you, he could see the distaste on your face. You really didn’t want to do this. Unlike Sam and Dean, you still had an essence of purity intact, mainly because you were the only one who hadn’t been dragged to literal hell and back again.

“Sam you know I don’t agree with what we’re doing, please don’t make me do this.” The giant of a man shook his head.

“Me and Dean have something to do, just please do this for me. He’s just another Demon.” Sam tried to make light of the situation the same as he always did, forever the diplomat. Crowley furrowed his brows at the lank brother.

“Fine, don’t ask me to do this again for you!” You picked up the needle, it was empty. “Where’s the blood?” You asked, disgusted because you already knew the answer to that one.

“Got to go!” Sam said, hugging you and striding out of the room. “I owe you one, Y/N!”

“Asshat!” You shouted after him.

Crowley remained silent through the whole exchange between siblings. He provided you with his undivided attention, watching every single movement your body made, every little dance of nerve endings. 

“I know, this sucks.” You offered him, he didn’t reply. “Wow, for once you’re lost for words. I could get used to this.” You said with a sassy smile as you rolled up your sleeve, tapping the underside of your forearm to find a vein. You set out a sharp hiss as you slid the needle in, drawing out blood slowly. Crowley dampened his lips, for as much as he hated this situation, the rush of human blood made him feel alive, emotions swimming around in his head and his heart like rolling thunder. To know that he was being injected with your blood, he had no words to describe it.

“You know, I’m done struggling to escape, I’m tired of begging for my freedom. A King should just resign to what befalls him. I don’t want this but if this is to be my fate…” You watched him, mouth open slightly in disbelief. “Y/N, I’m… I’m sorry for all the hurt and the pain I’ve put you and your brothers through.”

You closed the gap between them, hesitating as you put the needle near his neck.

“Look, Crowley I know you’re just doing your job, I get it. There’s an order to things, light and dark. But nothing is that transparent anymore. There are hints of grey and shades of red. I don’t agree with what Sam is doing but if this is the only way I can save my brother and stop what’s going on… I just hope you understand.”

He remained silent as the needle pierced his skin, the dose of foreign blood being injected into him, your blood…

You didn’t walk away from him; you didn’t watch him from afar. You stayed by his side until the drug induced sleep washed over him.

That night as he slept, for the first time in his demonic existence, he had a real dream. You were adorned in a beautiful black gown atop a grand staircase, he watched as you descended the stairway to the bottom, heads turning to look at you as you made your way down, he offered you his hand, you took it with a gentle grasp and a beaming smile, he raised your hand to his lips and watched your face closely, you wore an expression he had never seen before, adoration. His heart was pounding so violently in his chest that it skipped beats entirely. He felt nervous to the core, but he simply held your hand lightly as he ventured across the entrance of a beautiful palace. His palace. No black architecture or demonic beady black eyes in sight…

The pair of you entered a hall of grandeur where you danced the night away, still no trace of demons to be seen, no angels, and no paranoid brothers. It was a splendid night, afterwards you retreated the balcony where you softly leaned your weight on the stone hand guards, your attention fixed on the stars, he stared at you for what seemed like an eternity until he swiftly motioned closer, your vision fell upon his face and your features softened, something hidden behind your E/C eyes called to him, something Crowley had never witnessed in his long life when he looked upon you, this magnetic shift, like the earth had been pulled out from underneath him. 

He leaned in for a kiss, but suddenly there was an almighty crack, it happened in slow motion but before he could regain any sense of balance, you were gone, falling from his grasp, downwards. The earth opened up beneath you, red fire raging beneath. He jolted awake, gasping.

He was greeted with a very confused and slightly smug looking youngest Winchester sibling, he back in reality with you wearing a denim jacket instead of a velvet black gown.

“What’s the matter? You went all holy white and odd…” You insisted. Crowley felt embarrassed, yes embarrassed! He was back to hating the side effects of the blood, disgusted in himself for letting such delusional ideas sweep over him. 

“I just… I had a dream.” He looked frantically around the dungeon. He was still bound to the chair with heavy set chains and a devil trap.

“Oh…” Was your reply. “I take it you haven’t had one of those in a while?” You inquired. He nodded, his body coated with cold sweat. “Mind if I ask what it was about since you practically screamed my name?” You folded your arms across your chest, a slightly bemused smile now tugging at your soft lips. Crowley felt himself staring at them for quite some time before snapping his eyes up to meet yours, his snake like tongue back along with a small portion of his senses.

“I dreamt my hellhounds ripped you limb from limb while you were cooking my dinner.” He tried the cold sassy approach; he didn’t want to see how much of an affect the human blood was having on him, or how much of an affect you seemed to have on him either.

“Uh-huh, back to your bitchy self eh? Fine by me.” You shrugged and left the dungeon. Crowley replayed the dream in his mind a thousand times during his unplanned stay at the ‘Hotel Winchester Torture Spa’ which he had so pleasantly named it in his mind. That was when his feelings for you began to manifest. Every day you would visit him, to check if he needed anything. Your kindness towards him was heartbreaking. After all he had taken from you, all the terrible things he had done, he wanted nothing more than to make it right the more human he felt.

One morning whilst he had passed out from another dose he woke to a warm flannel on his head as you wiped away the sweat. He grabbed your wrist, expecting you to flinch but there was no fear behind your eyes anymore.

Your eyes didn’t leave his hazel orbs. “Morning,” you whispered.A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of your voice.

“Y/N…” His eyes pleaded for you to stop, to no longer show him mercy. “I don’t need your pity…”

“Crowley if I had any pity for you I wouldn’t be helping you. I’d throw you pathetic looks from the other side of the room and I’d leave. I’m helping you as a friend. Well Frienemy really.” You let out a soft sigh and carried on your labours, wiping his face with a dry cloth. Your fingers lingered a little too long and he leaned into your hand, his eyes drooping shut. He had caught you off guard, he could tell you didn’t know what to do for a while before…

“Y/N…” he whispered softly, taking in every ounce of your touch, your other hand reached up to touch the opposite side of his face, his heart gave a painful twitch in his chest. What was happening? Everything in his body now hurt at a single touch, his face felt as though it were on fire…

His eyes snapped open when he heard Dean’s voice.

“Y/N, you down there?”  A voice that sounded like gravel and whiskey. Crowley let out a low growl, the warmth of your hands rapidly faded, replaced by the cold sting of the dungeon air but the tingle of soft fingers caressing him stayed for hours afterwards; in truth it never faded, he yearned for you most days but he clouded it under his usual facade of scotch, sass and the face that he was a demon after all.

“Yeah one minute!” You gave Crowley an apologetic look and fled the basement, leaving him alone with a heavy burden on his chest. You could never love him, you wouldn’t ever feel the way for him that he was beginning to feel.

After Crowley escaped those chains he tried so pitifully to forget the one Winchester that had bought him to the pathetic shell of himself that he had now become, you were a new weakness. He acted cold and indifferent, every time he injected himself out of addiction he would come back to that same dream, he wanted to forget those feelings, trying desperately to seek the company of other demons. But none of them were you, their company didn’t even come close to just the sight of you.

He was destined to a fate of longing for from afar. A cruel sentence for a cruel being.

The second he heard that you had been kidnapped by demons, being injected with demonic blood he was overcome with burning red rage, his throne room was turned upside down in a fit of anger, he tortured various subjects to find the whereabouts of your captivity. The second he found out your location he was on the phone to Sam and Dean to meet him outside the bunker. They complied; when they blamed him for your disappearance he could have all but killed them or seriously disfigured their limbs for their insolence.

“Do you have any idea of how much I’m risking to be here, handing over your sister and you think I’m bloody responsible for this?” His voice was loud and affirmative, the boys before him took a step back as his eyes began to glow red.

“Woah Crowley, we’re sorry man, it’s just she’s being held by your demons…” Dean tried to reason with him.

“Just go in there and save her!” He didn’t care how it sounded, the brothers exchanged looks between one another before jumping into the Impala and speeding off to the location that Crowley had written down. The King remained at the bunker until you came through the door in the arms of Dean, you were battered and bruised all over, your skin white and your human form fading away, close to death.

“Fucking butchers…” He muttered under his breath, Castiel heard the desperation in the demon’s voice.

“We’ll keep her safe…” The angel reassured.

“I’ll be back, I have to go sort something out… ” Crowley disappeared in a click.

The next four hours he sought out those responsible for the kidnapping, breaking out his old torture kit he put it to good use, they begged for mercy but he spared them none.  

His ring tone piped up half way through making the last demon suffer, who also refused to talk. For his disregard to following orders Crowley carved pieces from his flesh, he’d already branded him with a sigil so he couldn’t escape his vessel.

“She’s awake?” Crowley sounded a little too desperate and demanding but he didn’t care, he just wanted to know you were safe. He’s already seen what damage the mark had held on Dean, he didn’t want that to befall you too.

“Uhh, yeah she’s awake. We need your help…” Before Dean had finished the sentence Crowley had appeared before the Winchesters and the Giraffe in a trench coat, he hung up the phone, the two towering brothers looking angrily at him.

“This is all your fault!” Sam shouted, Dean held a hand out to hold the lanky brother back. “She’s turning into one of you! Was Dean not enough, you had to try to have Y/N too?”

“I didn’t do this to her!” He shouted back. “And I’m telling you I had nothing to do with this! Do you even realise how much chaos this has caused me? The only tip off you puppets would have had could only have come from me, and now I’ve all sorts of uproar down there that I protected a Winchester, let alone her!” He lied, he’s had hardly any resistance when he tore through hell, blindly massacring those responsible for this situation for going against him. Crowley could see the anger building up in Dean’s eyes, like a ticking time bomb, but he refused to back down.

“I don’t give a crap about what you have to deal with in Hell, that’s your business, you’re their King. Just fix it or so help me!” Dean took a step forward, and Crowley took one too, the pair sized one another up before the king let out a heavy sigh.

“Just shoot some human blood into her veins that usually flushes the demon out… I really don’t see why you felt the urge to call me here.” He was exhausted. Right now the only war going on was inside his demonic mind. Why did these imbeciles have to be your brothers? He pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for some answers.

“Because right now that could kill her…” Castiel, the ever innocent minded child in the equation actually made a valid point. It didn’t stop Crowley’s usual sassy quips

“Problem solved,” he muttered.

After some debate Crowley offered the solution to drain the bad blood and pump in the human blood, he watched agonised as Sam hooked you up to a drip, whilst draining the demonic blood through a tube into a bucket.

He wanted nothing more than to wipe the cold sweat from your brow like you had done for him that day in the dungeon. It was ironic, here he was in the same position you had been in a long while back, looking at a desperate soul being turned into something else against their nature.

For days he couldn’t take his mind off you, his mother would nag in one ear, his courtroom bored the red smoke out of him, and trivial matters always brought his thoughts back to you. He wanted you, now more than he ever. The way you had looked at him when you woke, he would have loved to place his hand on your chin, to hold your face up to him… All sorts of fantasies raged in his mind, often ones that led to you begging for him to make you his queen, sometimes he’d have to shift his leg over the other to hide his obvious arousal.

He sat quietly addressing matters, the same as usual when his mother burst in, her hips swaying as she walked, a triumphant smile on her face.

“Fergus, I caught a wee birdie for you,” she practically sang.

“It’s Crowley and what are you-“ Realisation settled in quickly and he knew who the little birdie was. “Why would this news interest me?” He tried to play coy.

“Oh don’t give me that. She’s on her way to a watering hole near that horrid men of letters bunker. You should strike now while her brothers aren’t watching her” Rowena put on a charming an innocent voice but it didn’t wash well with Crowley, he knew she was up to something and he wanted to expose it.

“If you’ll excuse me…” He rose of his throne and strolled out of the courtroom to his chambers, knowing no one would be watching, he transported himself out of his chambers to your location, making sure his suit looked extra sharp.

You still looked ill, he watched you for some time turning down bikers, and handsome men for a drink. After you snapped a pool cue over your leg to threaten one man he just wanted to snatch you away and do whatever the fuck you wanted him to do to. The king could see you were close to leaving the joint after that little scene, so he decided he would try his luck.

“You know, I find that such an attractive quality in a woman…” Your shoulders relaxed, it was a good sign, he sat down beside you and offered you a drink, You happily complied. He was lost for words momentarily, out of everyone in this bar, you let the king of hell buy you a drink, a man that had put you through torment for years until he was forced into being injected with plain old human blood.

The two  of you talked for what seemed like eternity, feelings in his chest began to arise once more. When he was with you he felt things, virtue, good old fashioned sins, a burning desire. Oh hell, he needed to taste you…

Angry bikers burst into the bar right before Crowley was about to confess something he perhaps shouldn’t have dared to, shouting obscene and offensive things at you. Crowley could sense a shift in the atmosphere, the aura you were giving off, it was dark and dangerous. It seems you weren’t entirely rid of the demonic blood coursing through you.

As the well built biker tried to land a punch on you, Crowley stopped the biker;s fist by grabbing it at an inhumane speed.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to hit a woman?” he was furious but he kept a cool exterior, he wanted to murder this man. If he was in any other circumstance he would have, but not sat right next to the one person he was trying so hard to impress.

“Who the fuck are you?” The goon growled.

“The King of Hell.” The man laughed in his face, wrong move. Crowley snapped the arm out of the socket, almost severing it clean off before breaking the biker’s leg while he had doubled over in pain. The bar became a free for all, but Crowley soon subdued them, mostly by flinging them at walls with a flick of his wrist. His attention turned back to see you hovering over a scrawny looking man, a knife in your hand, the king had no doubt then that you were about to do something you couldn’t come back from, he darted over to you, grabbing your wrist firmly in place, he felt a rumble of anger and a spike in energy emanate from your frame but as you turned to face him it vanished in an instant. You looked up at him through long lashes, your pupils dilated until the iris’ were entirely black, your breathing grew heavy. He could smell the alcohol on your breath, he wanted to let go, to back away, you weren’t in the right frame of mind… But he had wanted this… Wanted you for so long. He let himself close the gap, his lips softly brushing over yours. You dropped the knife and he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed you in far more intimate ways. The kiss deepened, your hands roamed his body, if you weren’t slightly tipsy he might have thought you wanted him too. But he’d settle for this, even if he would probably regret this decision tomorrow when you had run away. He pushed you back into the pool table, clicking his fingers so that time stood still in the bar. His phone rang in his pocket, but he ignored it. He couldn’t let this pass him by, he wouldn’t have been able to function for a while after passing this up.

When his phone rang a second time he snapped, his minions knew not to ring him back unless it was life or death.

“What the bloody hell do you want, This better be damned important I’m in the middle of something…” You let out a little giggle to his outburst, if he had a heart it would have melted at the sound. Instead he resigned to the duty that he had been burdened with, returning to hell in a foul mood as he sat in a meeting, two of his subjects on trial for treason.

If his thoughts were dark before, now he definitely wanted to kidnap you and tie you up in his chambers, but if that happened he wouldn’t have done much ruling for a while, just fucking F/N Winchester senseless.


	6. The Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's been about a freakin' year since I updated this, I am so sorry. (Personal life, work, other stuff) I always had this on the back burner, but in light of recent episodes I just couldn't leave it unfinished! So I apologise for leaving people waiting so long and hopefully a few of you lovely readers are still out there.

“Sound like your mother?” Dean addressed the king of hell like old friends, the pair had been chatting over the events of Dean’s earlier encounter with the witch, Rowena. Earlier that day she had painted herself in alchemical symbols and pagan ritual sigils, casting a few boys hurling at Dean and the hunter had fought them off with ease, sending Rowena on her way with a warning. She had decided to play a scene to Crowley, injuring herself and throwing him a misconstrued story of how Dean had beaten her bloody, the Demon knew better than to believe her.

So there sat Dean Winchester, talking to Crowley in a calm fashion over a drink. After a few moments of silence he decided to approach Crowley on a piece of information the witch had spilled previously.

“So you’ve got the hots for Y/N, right?” The demon choked on his Pinacolada, Dean’s jaw clenched the way it usually did when he was above boiling point below the surface. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The demon beside him eyed the unhinged Winchester with considerable caution.

“Whatever gave you that idea? I told you my mother lies.” Crowley tried to diffuse the situation, but it obviously wouldn’t work, it appeared to Dean that he was trying to crawl into bed with the youngest Winchester, their beloved sister, but in truth the demon king wanted so much more than that.

“And so do you pal. Funny, I didn’t mention Rowena said anything about you trying to win my sister over… If you so much as touch Y/N, I will kill you.” Dean said calmly but firmly, sipping again on his neat whisky as he stared dead ahead. “Seems her and Sam do share something afterall.” Dean’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Care to share the joke? I know Sam likes to cohort with demons, I remember the Ruby fiasco, but I don’t think your sister would even dare.” Crowley snorted derivatively and continued to drink.

“Only because she knows I’d kill her too.” If Dean didn’t have the mark, Crowley would have thought he was joking, but with his current situation the hunter was unpredictable.

********

Sam had promised to tell you that morning what was responsible for sneaky phone calls to Cas, however morning had come and gone and Sam was nowhere to be found; he didn’t return that evening either. Dean was busying himself with chores around the bunker, insisting he was fine and avoiding speaking to you entirely until he too disappeared from the safe heaven, presumably to do what you had done the night previous and drink himself into an alternative mood.

You opened up Sam’s Netflix account and began storming your way through ‘Once upon a Time’, compelled by the story of Rumplestiltskin and Belle, you hated to admit that despite your line of work you had a beauty and the beast complex.

You had immersed your attention entirely on the show until Dean staggered through the door, the smell of alcohol hit you, you elder brother plonked himself down beside you and picked up the remote controller.

“You watching this crap?” You shot a cold look at Dean and snatched the controller back.

“Yeah, I am.” You brother sighed and stared disinterestedly at the television set, his brows furrowing in response to the story line.

“So that creepy Scottish dude is in love with the princess and she loves him back even though he imprisoned her? I think that’s called Stockholm syndrome.” He grunted, you could see out of the corner of your eye Dean shifted in his seat, was there an undertone to his voice?

“Fine. Here.” You shoved the remote into his chest as you stood to resign to your room for the night, not wanting to hear anymore from Dean.

“Rowena stopped to say hello to me today…” You stopped dead in your tracks; you knew Dean was now devoting his attention to you very carefully. “She mentioned that she visited you yesterday on your way to the bar…” You slowly turned around.

“Yeah, and?” You tried to act casual.

“So, the mother of Crowley pays you a visit and you don’t mention anything? You did mention that Crowley asked for your help after you straight up lied to my face, but you didn’t say what with. Care to tell me why the demonic royal family is after you so badly, enough to turn you into a demon?” He seemed… normal, his tone wasn’t odd, his body language wasn’t off either, this had you worried severely.

You shrugged. You had nothing you wished to share with your brother, especially not what transpired between you and Crowley the night before. “She was rambling on about how she wanted us to back off from him, nothing much. I told her to go to hell.” Dean smiled, but it wasn’t his usual humorous smirk, it was etched in darkness.

“That’s not what she told me… Seems someone is overly fond of my little sister.” Your heart stopped. “Crowley also paid me a visit.” Your chest felt tight, your breathing became heavy, it almost stopped entirely.

“You know she’s a liar…” Your tone was barely more than a whisper.

“Funny, Crowley said the same thing. I swear, if anything is going on between you two, so freakin’ help me…” You cut him off.

“Nothing is going on Dean, why would you even think that?” You jaw clenched tightly, you wanted to hightail it out of there as fast as you could. “I’m going to bed.” You grunted, trying to escape. Your brother turned into a monstrous predator, moving quickly to block the exit.

“You’re not getting out of it that easy. That rose was more than just a friendly peace offering, wasn’t it? What happened last night?” Fear flashed through your eyes. Damn, he was persistent.

“I already told you, look I don’t know if Crowley is trying to get on my sweet side because he’s trying to control you or get information but I didn’t tell him anything. I refused to help with his Rowena problem…” Your voice was pleading and desperate. Dean didn’t relax but he took a step aside and let you pass. You expected him to follow you but he didn’t.

You raced to your bedroom, closing the door in a hurry.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, you found the bowl on your nightstand, you spilled the bag of ingredients across the bed searching desperately for the right ones. You hurriedly grabbed what you thought were the right fundamental elements to brew up a summoning concoction, throwing them into the bowl, you lit the black candles and drew the summoning circle around the bowl on the floor in chalk and struck the match. The ingredients simmered away to ash.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, it appeared it didn’t work, you threw open your bedside draw looking for your notebook.

“Hello, darling.” You jumped, it appeared the spell did work after all. “You know you could have just called me.” Crowley stood in the centre of the room, a very smug look plastered to his face. Your heart stopped beating entirely.

Something was burning inside you, like a flame… A familiar sensation pumping through your veins like ecstasy made you feel light headed, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d had a taste of the King the night before, you wanted him now more than ever.

“Well I’m not really that kind of girl. Didn’t want to seem too desperate…” You sighed in relief and laughed a little, relaxing more in his company.

“So you summon me instead? I’m flattered.” He didn’t move from the spot. “I take it by the look of panic on your face a certain someone knows more than he should?” You nodded. “He cornered me about my apparent affection for you…” His expression shifted, there was a hint of sadness in his face that you had only ever seen once before, when he was bound to the chair in the dungeon, the day you had wiped the sweat from his brow and his eyes closed to your touch…

“Yeah he knows a lot… No thanks to your mother.” Rolling your eyes you took a step closer to the demon before you. Your hands trembling and your chest feeling as though it were on fire.

“Well,” he spoke, finally he found his footing and moved closer to you, “looks like we’ll just have to disappoint him, won’t we?” Crowley snaked a hand around your hip and pulled you flush against him, clicking his fingers the world fell beneath your feet until your weight found ground again. A dark chamber emerged in your vision, adorned in gothic furniture and grotesquely beautiful demonic art. You didn’t take much time to appreciate it before your mouth found Crowley’s.

His lips ghosted over yours before biting your bottom lip, you whimpered and opened your mouth to allow him access, fighting against him for dominance, eventually you gave into the heated kiss and granted him access, letting your tongues dance against one another. Your hands laced into his dark hair as his dexterous fingers made easy work of your shirt, unbuttoning it to reveal the flesh of your stomach.

He parted from you to take a step back and eye you, his hazel orbs full of something you couldn’t place, he turned his attention to your neck, gliding his tongue over the spot between your collarbone and throat. You moaned as your head fell backwards, goading him further.

Gliding the jacket of his suit over his shoulders, he shrugged it off in a hurry and it dropped to the floor, forgotten. You could feel your weight being forced back towards the bed, you allowed it to happen, gladly.

Crowley’s hand slid under your back, popping the clasps of your bra and removing it from your body with expert precision. He breathed in the site of you before him as you were now exposed to him.

“Beautiful,” he muttered before kissing your neck once again, moving slowly down to your breast, his tongue dancing over your erect nipple. You let out a moan, arching your back as your nerves were electrified to Crowley’s touch, you knew you were a hot writhing mess below, all you wanted, all you needed was for the demon you’d grown so fond of . For so long you’d fantasied about this moment, about Crowley ravishing you, and finally this was it, but it was softer than you expected, more passionate… The way he often held himself with such confidence was so appealing to you. You had an affinity for the darker things in life, but this was a new level of darkness and yet somehow Crowley was being so delicate with you, like you were glass and he was afraid to break you.

He undid the clasp on your jeans, sliding down the zip and slowly removing the offensive garment that remained in the way of his view, slipping down your panties along with them, wasting no time at all. His hot and burning gaze on your body only empowered you more, you parted your legs for him and he softly inserted a finger into your centre, his thumb caressing your clit in circles, you hissed and arched your back, moaning loudly as he slipped another finger into you, working you quicker.

“Y/N, you’re so wet…” His voice was so low and husky you moaned softly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to do this to me Crowley,” you studied his expression closely, he seemed shocked, a smile tugged at his lips reaching his eyes, he looked so charming. In that moment you knew that this was more than lust or desire, the feelings you had for Crowley were beyond anything like you’d ever felt for anyone. 

“Well I won’t leave you waiting any longer, darling” he spoke softly as he lowered his jaw to your soaked entrance his beard scratching along your thigh, his warm and textured tongue brushed over your mounds of sensitive flesh, he teased you and your throat caught, you couldn’t even let out a moan the sensation was mind blowing. Your hands raked through his hair, encouraging him more as his tongue slipped into your hole, flicking the corners of your entrance, your breathing became so heavy, a knot began to build inside you as you moved your hips to his tongue movements, you were so close and Crowley could sense this by how tight you were around his wet appendage.

He pulled his tongue from you, giving you one last lick up your front, earning that moan that had been building for some time. He sat up on his knees, removing his paisley tie and black shirt, tossing them over the side of the large bed. His weight shifted until he was above you; leaning up you kissed him softly, tasting yourself on him. He groaned into your kiss, you wrapped a leg around his torso and pushed against his body until you were on top, straddling him, the king of hell. In that moment you felt powerful. It was your turn to torture him. You laced kisses down his torso, making quick work of his belt and sliding off his pants, springing his arousal free. You took the base in your hands, sliding your tongue along his shaft, he hissed with pleasure. You took the head of his cock into your mouth delicately, swirling your tongue around the tip. His profanity encouraged you to to go even deeper.

You could taste his warm liquid spill when you did something to over excite him, your tongue working him to the edge of oblivion. Hollowing your cheeks you took as much of him in your mouth as you could fit, wrapping your hand around the rest and pumping him until he was breathing heavily, you could feel pulsations in his member, he was close. His fingers laced into your hair as he groaned your name. You drew your head back from him, climbing up to meet his lips with your own. Crowley cupped your face with one hand, his fingers still wound into your hair with the other. You lowered your clit onto his wet cock, sliding against him, begging him to fill you,

Crowley let out a feral growl and flipped you over pinning your hips against the satin sheets, lining his cock up with your entrance. He slid inside you without warning, stretching you out.

“Fuck,” he moaned, sliding out of you and slowly edging back in. You couldn’t hold it in anymore you practically screamed in ecstasy, he began fucking you so slowly it was painfully blissful, your bodies fit against one another perfectly, your nerve endings felt like white hot fire as he worked your folds with his cock so perfectly. 

“Crowley,” you moaned, the sound of his name spilling from your lips in such a guttural manner was all he needed, he began pumping into you, faster and faster, until the sound of bodies hitting each other filled the room along with your collective moans.

One hand propped him up as he angled himself with you, another held your leg up to force himself into a new spot, hitting it only a few times until you were seeing stars. You came undone around him, moaning his name as you spilled yourself all over his cock, sending him over the edge. A few more thrusts and he spilled his seed inside of you. The pulses from his cock making you ride out your orgasm even further.

He didn’t remove himself from your entrance for a while, instead he laced your neck with kisses, finding your mouth with such fierce desire and passion you didn’t even know he could give.

At that moment neither of you had a care in the world, all your current problems seemed to dissipate to nothing in the aftermath of bliss.

But as ever fate came knocking, or ringing. Your phone went off, eye of the tiger filling the room with its upbeat intro. ‘Dean’ flashed up on the front of your cell phone, the funny picture you had taken and put as his caller ID panicked you. Why was he calling you? The last time you spoke to him you were in the bunker… “Shit…” You cursed at your mobile. Before you had a chance to answer it went to voicemail. There wasn’t much you could do to squirm your way out of this one. You whined into the pillow. 

“I’m sure you’ll think of an excuse darling, I wouldn’t worry too much.” And with that Crowley’s phone went off. 

“Bollocks.” He muttered under his breath. He let it ring a few times. You could see the front of his screen had ‘Not Moose’ written across it. Your heart was racing. Dean knew everything, he must have… You remembered the evidence you had left sprawled in your room. You cursed yourself for not locking your door again.

As soon as Crowley answered he didn’t even have a chance to speak, you could hear Dean’s voice barking down the other end of the phone like a savage dog. 

“What did I tell you Crowley? You touch my sister and I’ll kill you. Next time I see you, you’re dead!” Your brother sounded hoarse, his outrage must have turned the bunker upside down. 

“Hello to you too squirrel. Thanks for the friendly warning but -” You knew Crowley was going to feign innocence to protect you on this one, you did the best thing to diffuse the situation… You grabbed Crowley’s phone. 

“Dean I’m able to make my own choices as much as you’re able to make your own mistakes. Worry about yourself for once.” You quickly hit the red cancel call button and handed Crowley his phone back. 

His expression was one of disbelief, he thought you’d be ashamed of what you had done, that you’d lie and wriggle out of it whatever way possible but you owned it, you told your brother to back off and for that he admired you even more. 

“You’re remarkable you know that?” He spoke softly, the compliment came out of nowhere, you gave him a warm smile and nestled closer to his body. 

“I’m aware I’ve done remarkable things, but I’m not remarkable as a person. You on the other hand, you surprise me more and more.” Crowley’s arm fell over your shoulder as he brought you even closer to him. He kissed the top of your forehead lightly, another tender action which left you wanting to explore whatever was forming between the two of you even more. 

You both stayed like that for a fair amount of time, you lulled off to sleep on the king’s shoulder, completely content for just a brief moment..


End file.
